Recidivism
by Jay-Leigh17
Summary: Because the demons don't just disappear...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is a companion piece to Relapse. But if you haven't read it, its not really necessary. **  
**

**Summary Of Relapse: **Emily struggles with self harm, and falls into a 'friends with benefits' relationship with JJ. Eventually Elle comes to town, originally to catch up with Derek, but she ends up catching up with the whole team. She and Emily fall totally in love, fluffy goodness ensues, and Emily stops cutting. JJ and Spencer become involved, and Derek and Penelope are engaged to be married.

**Warning: **So we're back on the subject of self harm. This one is quite a lot more detailed than Relapse. It deals more with the fear, and the cause. It also contains a bit of femmeslash. **  
**Oh, and this isn't a Mary Sue. **  
**_

* * *

**Black. **_

_Its empty. _

**_White. _**

_Its flashing. _

**_Red. _**

_Its dripping. _

_You're not sure where you are. You look around as your eyes adjust, and you realize you aren't alone. You feel your heart quicken as she turns in your direction. You don't know how you know, but you know she is a she._

_Your mind flashes (again?) to the red, and you realize its dripping from your wrists. Deep gashes accompany a dull pain, and you cringe as you see the mirroring marks on her own arms. You wonder if that isn't the only thing the two of you have in common. Her hair is dark and matted, missing in clumps. She smells dead. You try to breathe through your mouth as she stands, lurching towards you, sending the smell wafting in your direction. It doesn't take you long to realize that it tastes worse than it smells. _

_Much worse._

_She steps forward and you shrink back, away from the smell of decaying flesh; away from the look of hunger in her eyes. You continue this dance until you're backed against the wall and she is inches from you. _

_She touches your face. A caress not unlike that of a long time lover. You shudder under her touch as she trails her index finger over your jaw. Your chin wrenches up as she continues down your neck. You shake harder as she slides her hand between the valley of your breasts. She turns her hand so that her palm is resting against your ribs and her fingers are hanging over your stomach. Your eyes close and you wish suddenly that your breathing wasn't so ragged; that your heart wasn't beating so quickly. _

_She takes a small step back from you, and a single tear makes its way down your right cheek. She grins at you and all you can do is watch helplessly as you realize that she doesn't just smell dead. _

_She is dead._

_The pain floods through you before you realize that she's clutching the bottom of your sternum in her hand. You're vaguely aware through the white hot flash that you learned the name of the particular region she's gripping. It started with an 'x', and you remember it solely because it was called a process. _

_She wrenches her wrist around, and you scream silently as she rips your chest apart. _

_Xiphoid Process. The words are forced violently from your throat, and you have a fleeting hope, as if she will stop simply because you chose to pay attention in class one day. She simply grins wider and her face cracks as your blood washes over your hands. You don't understand how you can still be standing when you've lost so much blood. _

_She takes a step back, wiping her bloody hands on her tattered jeans. You realize for the first time that the blood on her white shirt is much darker in some places than others, leading you to believe that it doesn't all belong to you. Who else has she done this to? Why are you still conscious? _

_You watch in horror as she takes another step back, her skin turning black and breaking open as she winks at you. _

_Then she jumps. _

_And you scream. _

_She's jumped into the gaping hole she put in your chest. She's folded herself into the cavity that they all say is supposed to hold your heart. You wonder briefly where it went. You can feel her moving, and you're vaguely aware that she's pulling your body closed. You can feel your bones threading back together, your skin sewing itself shut. _

_It hurts, having her in there. But you realize that it has hurt all along. And you wonder, not for the first time, if she hasn't been there all along._

Emily opens her eyes, and the first thing she is aware of is the pain in her ribs. The second, is the fact that she's sweating, but she's freezing. She's shaking, the kind of shake she only gets after her nightmares. She pulls herself upright, heart pounding, and slinks out of the bedroom, sparing a glance for the woman who shares her bed. She hesitates momentarily, on the verge of waking her bed mate, but realizes she wouldn't know what to say. So she shuts the door behind her, and heads to the bathroom down the hall.

She isn't sure what she's looking for until she finds it. The plastic feels odd in her hand. It isn't what she wants. She smashes it against the counter, watching as the shards fly. She gets an odd satisfaction from the way the light twinkles off of the blade that is not laying on her counter.

She lifts it gingerly, feeling the power it wields. It is cold to the touch, and it soaks up the heat radiating from her fingers as if it knew she was coming all along. She drags it across her wrist, her heart slowing as the blood starts to flow. She is calming down.

She stares blankly at herself in the mirror, and a flash of a girl with dark, matted hair has her panicking again. She knows that this is not enough. She turns and rushes from the bathroom, and she is gone perhaps twenty seconds before she is back in front of that mirror, the serrated knife from the kitchen in one hand.

She nips into the medicine cabinet behind the mirror for the bottle of sleeping pills her doctor prescribed. She hasn't touched them before now, but she opens the bottle and dumps them into her hand. Knowing that she doesn't want anything more than to get it out, she puts most of them back, leaving her with seven pills in her hand. She takes three, and draws the knife across her skin, as if she were testing the A string on a precious violin..

She breathes a sigh of relief as her heart slows again. Sliding the knife into her left hand, she slices through the skin at her right wrist, grabbing the other four pills and shoving them down her throat. She holds her wrist to her mouth, washing them down with the blood spilling forth.

She wants out.

She collapses to the ground, her head slamming into the wall, and she smiles dully as the sedatives start to take effect. The last thing she is aware of, is the knife clattering to the floor, the blood, bright red from its stint with the oxygen, splattering halfway across the room.

Such is the horror that Elle awakens to.

* * *

**A/N:** So, even though I've probably got you convinced I belong locked up somewhere where my mind can't get at other peoples', you should still review. Because I'm quite interested in what you're thinking right now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I know its been a while since I wrote the first installment of this, but its taken me a long time to be comfortable writing the second part. Hopefully the rest of it will come a bit easier.  


* * *

Emily opened her eyes, and for the second time that day was aware first of the pain. But this time it was different. This time it was real. She tried to sit up, but the world spun and she braced herself with her arms, her eyes closed, her head hanging down. She felt a hand on her back and she flinched, her wrists giving way beneath her. A pitiful sound escaped her throat as she collapsed back down onto her bed.

She felt herself being drawn into a pair of strong arms, and this time she didn't protest. It wasn't until the gentle hands wound themselves around her wrists that Emily realized they had been carefully bandaged at some point. Judging from the way they were already stained red, and the tacky wetness she could feel still against her wrists, they would need to be changed soon.

"Hey you. Did you sleep okay?" The words were barely a whisper against her ear.

Emily appreciated what Elle was doing; loved her for it, even. But you couldn't attach a sense of normalcy to something that had never been normal. Emily shook her head and sank further into Elle's arms. It wasn't often that Emily let Elle hold her, and the younger brunette took full advantage of the abnormality of the moment, pulling Emily tighter against her.

"Tell me about it." It wasn't a question.

"Nightmares." Emily murmured, her eyes closing as she steeled herself against the memories.

"Any one in particular? There were a few last night."

Emily felt herself go rigid. She only remembered one, the last one, and she shuddered as she thought about what could have been in the others. She knew, from Elle, that she shook in her sleep when she was dreaming. She knew, too, that when she woke Elle up, Elle woke her up. She never made her talk, just waited it out with her until the shaking stopped and the tears subsided. Elle knew what nightmares were like, and Emily wished more than anything she could take that pain from her. She never really stopped to consider that maybe Elle felt the same way about her.

"The one I told you about last time." Emily finally answered, her voice breaking as she saw it all again.

Struggling to regain her composure, she forced herself to ask, "What time is it?"

She felt Elle move, turning to look at the clock, presumably.

"Just after six. You've been out for the better part of ten hours."

Emily turned in her arms, and Elle answered the unasked question.

"I heard the knife hit the floor."

Emily closed her eyes and laid her head against Elle's shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, love. Next time, drop the knife before you're completely out. You're heavy."

Her attempt at humor fell flat, but Emily nuzzled her nose into the other woman's neck to thank her for trying.

Emily couldn't stop the tears that came with Elle's next words.

"You scared me, baby."

Elle felt them on her neck, and slid her hand into Emily's hair before she continued.

"I've seen things that have made my stomach turn, but I've never seen that much blood. It was everywhere. And you wouldn't wake up. I couldn't wake you up." Elle's voice broke, and Emily hated herself more in that moment than she ever had before. She tried to lift her head to say something, anything, but she could think of nothing, and Elle continued.

"I cleaned them, the best that I could, but there was just so much.." She trailed off and took a deep breath. "I've changed them once already today, and they'll probably need it again soon. You're helping me this time." She smiled slightly as she felt Emily nod, and press a kiss against her neck.

"I know you love me, Emily." She knew better than to be overly affectionate with Emily right now, but she couldn't resist slipping her hand under Emily's chin and lifting it enough to press their lips together.

"I love you, too. More than anything." She whispered gently, and smiled again as she felt Emily's arms slip around her waist. As soon as Emily relaxed, she was tense again, sitting up quickly and tossing the blanket that had been covering them down towards the end of the bed.

Elle flushed with chagrin as she realized what Emily was upset about. She hadn't bothered to change her shirt this morning, figuring that when she changed the bandages on Emily's wrists, she would just get bloody again. But when she was honest with herself, she had just wanted to be close to the other woman. She had changed Emily's shirt, after all. She looked down at herself and winced as she saw just how much of Emily's blood she was sporting. Her shirt had dried stiff, and she knew that was how Emily had known.

Emily's eyes flicked up to hers, the pain in them unfathomable. Elle gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, immediately wishing she hadn't. There was only so much blood a shirt could hold, and what it couldn't absorb lay across her stomach.

She reached for the blanket, wanting to cover it up, even though she knew the damage had been done. Emily's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, her grip firm but gently, and suddenly Elle found herself under her raven haired girlfriend.

Emily's lips roamed across her stomach, her tongue flicking out against the smears of blood, and Elle wished it didn't feel as good as it did. Wished she could control the muscles in her stomach that were reacting the Emily's attention.

"Mine." Emily growled, and Elle wasn't sure if she was referring to her, or to the blood, and she opened her mouth to ask. Before she could get the words out, Emily's mouth was upon hers, kissing her roughly. Elle didn't bother to try to stop her nails from raking down Emily's back as she felt teeth sinking into her lower lip. Emily shuddered and broke away from her, her eyes dark, her tongue sliding across her lips as she looked down at Elle.

She was gone before Elle knew she was moving. She had her back turned to the younger woman, and Elle knew exactly what was going through her mind. She stood and went to kneel in front of Emily. Emily turned her head, and Elle grabbed her chin and forced Emily's eyes to hers.

"Listen to me. And look at me, too." She paused to be sure Emily wasn't going to refuse her.

"You haven't hurt me, Emily. I'm not as fragile as you seem to think I am."

"Haven't hurt you?" Emily choked out. "Look what I've done to you." Her eyes swept across Elle's stomach.

She lifted her right hand and traced one finger over Elle's lips that still tingled from the bite they'd been given. Emily's hand shook as she traced over a mark on Elle's neck that Elle didn't remember her putting there. But she felt the dull pain that told her not only was it new, but it would be there for a while. Emily stopped on Elle's side, unable to force her hand onto her stomach.

"Emily, you didn't do that to me." She pulled Emily's hands into hers, lifting them slightly so it was apparent that she was referring to her wrists as she continued. "You did this to yourself. You didn't cut me. You didn't tear me apart."

Emily spoke so softly that Elle barely heard her.

"Maybe not on the outside."

Elle couldn't find the words to argue with her.

* * *

**A/N:** I promise (to try) to get the next part up sooner than this one. But you won't get it without a review. I realize that it may be hard to find something to say after reading this, but just like any other story, its here to give you something to think about. So share with me what you're thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** This one is a bit shorter than the others. But I'm pretty sure things are going to take a turn for the dramatic soon. So. Deal.

* * *

Elle stood, intending to leave Emily to herself for a little while, but gentle hands on her hips stopped her. She felt Emily's arms wind themselves around her waist, and she settled hers on Emily's shoulders, letting the other woman's head rest against her stomach for a few moments.

"You should probably put a shirt on." Emily spoke against her stomach, sliding her hands to her girlfriends hips, their eyes meeting shyly.

"And if I don't?" Elle raised one eyebrow.

"I might be forced to take the rest off." Emily said, her voice low. She bent her head, placing wet kisses down Elle's stomach, nipping lightly at her hip.

"I might want you to." Her fingers wound themselves into Emily's hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to raise her eyes.

The look in Emily's eyes as she looked up took Elle's breath away. In the brief seconds that their eyes were locked, she saw everything there was to see about Emily. How much she hated herself for losing control. How much she wanted that control back. How much she needed her control back.

Elle put her hands on the bed on either side of Emily as she leaned down, brushing her lips across Emily's ear as she spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I might even fight you."

Emily's breath caught, and she pulled Elle onto her lap, trying desperately, and in vain, to kiss the younger woman.

"Baby, kiss me." She whispered, breathless.

"Make me."

Emily had every intention of getting a kiss, and possibly more, from Elle when she flipped them, straddling her and pinning her arms above her head. She bent her head to sink her teeth into Elle's neck when the wave of dizziness hit. She sat up quickly, another wrong move, and clapped her hand to her forehead, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Elle slipped out from under her, and placed one hand on Emily's shoulder.

"Dizzy?" she asked.

Emily opened one eye, slowly. "What ever gave you that idea?"

Elle ignored the sarcasm. "You lost a lot of blood. You should drink some water."

Emily shook her head. "Pomegranate juice. We have any?"

Elle nodded, the question written on her face.

"Pomegranate is high in iron. If I increase my iron, it will help regulate my hemoglobin so my blood will get more oxygen to my brain. Thus, I'll not be dizzy anymore."

"You've been talking to Reid again, haven't you?" Elle asked, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"When you've been everywhere I have, you learn a few things." Emily muttered, standing.

"Baby, let me-" Elle started but Emily cut her off.

"I'm dizzy. Not dead." Her words had an unnecessary bite to them, and she knew it. But instead of apologizing, she turned and walked from the room, her hand on the wall to steady her.

Elle watched as Emily set her glass down, empty of its contents, for the third time in the last hour.

"You're going to turn into a pomegranate." Elle chided.

"You'll still love me." Emily said, taking Elle's hand and kissing the inside of her wrist.

"I will always love you, Emily." She said softly.

"I'm sorry." Emily said, unable to meet her eyes.

Elle lifted Emily's chin. "You have no reason to be sorry. I just want you to be able to talk to me. I'm not going to try to stop you. If you want it bad enough, I won't be able to stop you. Just don't shut me out."

Emily nodded, tears in her eyes. Elle leaned closer, intending to kiss the tears away, but Emily met her halfway, her kisses signifying the need Elle had recognized earlier. She fell back, letting Emily take the control she seemed to crave.

"I want you." Emily whispered against her lips.

"Take me, love. I'm yours." Elle kissed her gently. She wanted Emily, too.

Emily pulled back, biting her own lip. Her misgivings written all over her face. Her eyes told the stories she was afraid of. The times she hadn't been able to stop herself. The times she'd gone too far.

"Tell me what you need, baby."

"Promise you'll tell me if I hurt you. But don't fight me." Emily said, shaking her head as she held Elle's gaze.

"Emily. I trust you. I trust you to not hurt me."

Elle offered her the one thing she knew Emily was most afraid to lose. The only thing she had to give.

Herself.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, I know. I'm totally shirking my smutful duties. But there are some things that even I can't put words to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** So, this is really just a filler chapter sort of, before we get into the real meat of the story. I need to establish that Emily's been cutting pretty regularly for a few weeks. And so I through in some background information as well. Settling you into Emily's head.

I'm sorry if this is a bit sloppy and not like my usual. I sort of threw it together recently. But, I think it works for what its supposed to do.

* * *

Hiding cuts is complicated. It takes tact. Precision. Forethought. That in itself takes a willpower that not many posses. Hiding cuts is an art form. One that Emily Prentiss invented.

First comes the trigger, whatever it is that makes her want to cut. Then comes the decision. Except, its really like two decisions. The first one, is if the way she feels is worth cutting. Sometimes, just admitting that makes it better, and she doesn't have to. After that, she has to decide if making that first decision made it any better. If not, she'll be cutting. Once the final decision has been made, there is a checklist. There are multiple questions, as there are multiple answers. Each answer determines the path of the next question.

_**How much does it hurt?**_

That's the big one. She has to know how intense her 'session' will be. It helps determine not only where she's going to cut, but also how long she'll be hiding it?

_**How likely is it that I'll be seen naked in the time it takes my cuts to heal?**_

Generally, that question is rephrased as 'Am I in a relationship?'. If she isn't, then its not important. But if she is, she has to be careful. She can't just cut on her arms, because then her routine would change. She hardly ever sleeps in long sleeves. That leaves a multitude of other places. Each new place comes with its own positives. But it also brings its own problems.

_**Shoulders?**_

Short sleeves will cover it. Even just leaving her hair down, if she's caught getting out of the shower. But what if she has to draw her gun? If her shirt, or her bra strap rubs the wrong way, and she flinches just the slightest bit, she could miss. Worse, she could hit an innocent.

_**Sides?**_

It doesn't matter what kind of shirt she wears. She doesn't have to be careful. If, at any point during the healing process, she decides she's in need of a bit of pain, she can get it while she's walking. Brushing her arms against her sides while they swing with her stride. Brush a little harder, get a little pain. But even if she's not sleeping with Elle, she's hugging her. She can't stop the other woman from slipping her arms around her at night. A twitch, or a raised shirt, and its all over.

_**Back?**_

Keeping her back away from people is something she's trained to do anyway. Being shirtless around her girlfriend is easier when the part of her she's hiding is already facing away from Elle. But, what if she pulls something open and doesn't realize she's bleeding? What if Elle decides to scratch those gorgeous nails down her back? And then she's again faced with the chance that she might flinch with a weapon in her hand.

_**Thighs?**_

There is absolutely no chance that anyone she isn't being intimate with will see them here. That means not having to keep track of cover stories. She always wears pants, so they're always covered. But she likes to kiss her girlfriend. She likes to pull her girlfriend onto her lap while she's kissing her. Her girlfriend tends to grind on her thighs. Which is hot. But not when they're all cut up. She doesn't like to associate Elle with that sort of pain.

_**Feet?**_

Socks are easy. Shoes tied a little tighter give that bite of pain that she craves, without making new scars. If she decides to get physical with her girlfriend, she's got nothing to explain away. Elle doesn't generally mess with her feet. The only real downside is if she has to run. She usually bleeds through her socks, then.

All of this runs through Emily's head each time she decides to cut. But it all really just takes her back to the first two questions. Once she has the answers to those two, she has to decide where.

Its not that she really wants to keep them hidden. She doesn't mind Elle knowing. She just hates the look in Elle's eyes when she asks why. As if she's already made up her mind that the 'why' isn't good enough. As if she has any idea what it feels like to want to rip your own body apart. And once she has run through all of this in her head, Emily feels like a horrible girlfriend. And that just makes her want to cut again. So, its really better for both of them if she just hides the cuts.

Once the deed is done, the 'session' over, she lets them bleed for a while. But then she gets a bit meticulous. She runs them under cold water, to help them stop bleeding. She dries them off with tissue paper, and then wipes them down with alcohol. She'll never admit it, but sometimes she cuts just to be able to feel that extra burn from the alcohol.

When Emily first started cutting, her thighs were a favorite place. Elle found some on her back and shoulders a few months ago. Last week Emily cut into her side. She's got them on her arms, too, from her nightmares two weeks ago. Tonight, she'll put them on her feet.

* * *

**A/N:** So, now that I've picked back up on this story, I should be updating fairly regularly. So, review, and maybe you'll get more story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Yes, I know its been forever since I updated this story. Sorry about that. I had it all written out, and then I lost it. I wasn't too keen on rewriting it, so the story is taking a whole different twist. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: Still not a Mary Sue.

* * *

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Elle asks, tracing her fingers over the gashes marring Emily's sides. She doesn't know when they got there, but she can tell that they're rather recent.

"To feel." comes the muffled response.

"To feel what?" Elle continues her tracing.

"Anything." Emily says pulling her face from the pillow it was buried in.

Elle sits quietly for a few moments, just long enough for Emily to decide to get comfortable again.

"If you don't feel anything, how do you know you love me?" It was softspoken, so much that Elle barely heard it herself. But Emily had.

In seconds, she was on her feet, yanking her shirt down, fire in her eyes.

"Seriously?" Elle just nodded.

Emily opened her mouth, ready to fight. She looked at Elle, saw the questions in her eyes, and faltered.

Tears springing to her eyes, she walked out of the bedroom. Elle followed her.

"Emily, talk to me."

"What's the point?" Emily whirled around on her. "You've already made up your mind."

"I have not. I just want to know. How do you know, if you can't feel it?" Elle grabbed her hand and tried to pull Emily down onto the couch.

Emily snatched her hand from Elle's grasp. "I just know!"

"Why are you so mad, Emily?" Elle asked softly.

"You questioned my feelings, Elle! You questioned _me._" Emily said, the tears falling now.

"Just talk to me." Elle was standing now, forcing Emily to look her in the eye.

"I think I'll be okay." Emily spat, turning to walk away. Deciding she wasn't finished, she turned back to Elle.

"You think I like it? Going through the motions of the life I used to love? Clinging to you as the one thing that I don't have to force myself through every day? You are the one thing I look forward to, I fucking love you. And if you can't see that, maybe I shouldn't be here." Emily had her hand on the doorknob before she heard Elle speak.

"I just feel useless, Emily. Like I'm not making anything better."

Emily shook her head, swallowing the tears so she could reply.

"Probably because you aren't."

And she was gone, the door slamming in her wake.

The whole way to her car Emily told herself that she was only going for a drive to clear her head. And even as she turned down the road that would eventually land her at JJ's, she was telling herself that she didn't have any particular destination in mind.

When JJ opened her door to find an obviously shaken Emily on her porch, she backed silently into her house, allowing the other woman room to enter. Emily stood in the foyer, looking lost, so JJ took her by the hand and led her to the couch.

"Whats wrong?" she asked gently.

"Elle." Emily answered, wiping her eyes. "I just don't know how to talk to her anymore. She questions me, and I start to question myself. And I just don't feel anything anymore.

"We've had this conversation before, Emily." JJ said, her voice soft.

Emily jumped up, pacing through JJ's living room.

"She loves you." JJ stated.

"No she doesn't." Emily said angrily. "She loves who she wants me to be."

"Then who are you?" JJ's eyes followed Emily's path.

"I don't know!"

And then her lips were on JJ's. And suddenly it was four years ago and JJ didn't care about anything except making Emily feel.

* * *

**A/N:** Don't get used to speedy updates. Haha. I'm still working on it. I just figured I'd give you this taste.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**: Wow. Its been a really long time since I've updated this, and I'm sorry. I never wanted to be one of those people who waited years between chapters. But, alas, I have become that person. I make no promises, for fear of breaking them, but I really hope to finish this in a timely fashion.

* * *

Emily felt.

She felt all of it. She felt JJ's tongue slip into her mouth as she pushed the blonde back on the couch, hands slipping under her shirt, breaking their kiss to remove it. She felt her heart race as JJ slid her own pants off, tossing them to the side. She felt the heat against her stomach as JJ pulled Emily back down on top of her.

She felt JJ arching into her as she kissed her way down the blonde's body. She felt the nails in her shoulders when she settled herself between legs that were spread for her. She felt the hands in her hair as she brought JJ to climax beneath her.

And after, when JJ slipped her clothes back on, and Emily opened her arms for the blonde to cuddle into, she felt the familiarity of it all.

But mostly, Emily felt sick. Sick with thoughts of the explanation when she returned to Elle. Because she knew she would. Sick at the thought of inevitable tears when she left JJ. Because she knew she was going to. Sick because she was definitely going to cut over this act of treachery.

But Elle wanted proof that she could feel something. Well, Emily had felt.

And so she smiled.

* * *

**A/N: ** Yes, yes, I know. You're all spitting mad at me now. Not only because this chapter was waaaaayyyyy short, but, well, yeah the content would probably make me mad, too. Rofl. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Reviews would be spectacular. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** So, I'm back. But, I don't know for how long. I named a WoW character after this fic, mostly so it would remind me that I need to work on the story. But, I haven't updated it in a while, and I've got seven other characters, so I'm sure you can guess how much play time she gets. (;

Anyway, onto the story.

* * *

Elle sat on the couch, her knees pulled against her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Her face, streaked with tears, was impassive as her eyes held fast to the door. She had long since given up on Emily returning tonight.

She'd paced for a while; debated calling the team. But she didn't want to bring them into Emily's business. She'd sent a few texts, and finally gotten up the courage to call Emily. Only to hear her phone ringing in their bedroom. That was when she had collapsed on the couch, finally letting the tears come.

She hadn't been sure at the time if she was crying because Emily had hurt her, or because she had hurt Emily. Truth be told, she still wasn't sure.

But suddenly her eyes brain recognized what her eyes were seeing and she straightened, startled.

"You're back." Her voice was filled with surprise.

"You're still here." The words came slowly from Emily's lips, as if she hadn't expected to have to utter them.

"Where else would I go?" Elle asked.

Emily shrugged and shut the door, not moving any further into the house.

"Where have you been?" Elle tried to keep her voice from shaking as she watched the sick little smile make it's way onto Emily's face.

"I think you know where I've been." Emily leaned back against the door, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes on Elle.

"Emily.. Where were you?" Elle stood, and took a step towards her girlfriend, reaching for her, but Emily brushed her off.

And then, Elle realized that Emily didn't need to say anything.

She saw it in the tousled hair, that her girlfriend hadn't even tried to straighten. In the cocky smile on her face, that didn't come close to reaching her eyes. And now, she couldn't take her eyes off of Emily's hands, that were shaking. Itching. In desperate need of something sharp.

"You told me that was over." Elle said, barely a whisper, as she took several steps backwards, away from Emily.

"It was. And then it wasn't anymore." Emily shrugged, still leaning back against the door. "And now, I suppose it is again."

"You suppose?" Elle collapsed on the couch, not strong enough to keep her balance anymore.

"I felt something. Isn't that what you wanted, Baby?" The sickening way she smirked as the words left her mouth made Elle cringe.

"No." Elle shut her eyes tight and shook her head, as if that would wake her up from this..._nightmare_. That's what this was.

"But, you asked how I knew I loved you."

Apparently not a nightmare.

"I felt!" Emily exclaimed. "That's what you wanted. That's what you said you wanted."

She took a few steps forward and sat on the coffee table, her eyes meeting Elle's for a moment, before flying around the room. Her hands were on her thighs, curling and twisting together, before uncurling and untwisting, only to do it again.

Having traced every one of Emily's scars, numerous times, Elle saw her movements for what they were. An intricate pattern of interwoven hatred and pain that only Emily seemed able to navigate, if not understand.

Elle felt her heart sink as she watched Emily's eyes light on everything she knew could hurt her, knowing it was that search for pain that brought those dark eyes back to her own so often.

"What did you feel?" Elle asked, and she knew, even as Emily opened her mouth to answer it, that while it would be the right question for Emily, it was the wrong question for herself.

"Everything." Emily's eyes lit up as they stayed trained on Elle's for the first time since she'd walked through the door.

"I felt the rush. I felt the rush of being wanted erroneously. I felt her, all over me. I felt every breath she took, every word she said. I felt how much she wanted it. I felt what it took for her to beg me for it. I felt the way she shook when I finally gave her what she wanted."

Emily didn't notice the tears streaming down Elle's cheeks, as intent as she was on explaining what had happened tonight. Perhaps if she had, she would have stopped. Or changed direction. Or perhaps she wouldn't have. Maybe she would have gone further. Given Elle all of the details she wouldn't have been able to bear hearing.

For better or worse, Emily didn't notice Elle's tears, and she continued speaking with the same dark energy as before. Her eyes alight with something out of her own nightmares.

"And when she curled up against me, after, her head on my shoulder, I felt her heartbeat. I felt the arm of the couch, digging into my back. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up into a smile, the one you fell in love with."

Emily reached out shakily to brush Elle's hair back, and Elle tensed, her whole body going rigid.

Emily felt that, too.

"I felt sick. Sick to my stomach. Sick to my soul. Because it wasn't you I was with."

Emily searched Elle's eyes, for a modicum of understanding. She found none.

"I knew, Baby. I know. That I love you."

Elle's breath hitched as Emily leaned closer, her body reacting to the proximity even as her stomach turned to have her girlfriend this close. Emily's lips brushed hers, and Elle stood swiftly, her right hand covering her mouth.

"I can't." She said, hating herself as she watched Emily's hands begin to twist again, her eyes resume their searching.

"I just can't. Not tonight."

She turned her back to Emily and walked up the stairs, wondering if she was shaking as much as the woman she loved. Knowing that those patterns that Emily's hands were weaving would appear on her flesh tonight., but having no idea how to stop it. No idea how to fix it.

* * *

Emily stood in the bathroom, seeing the nightmare in her own eyes. She looked down, and saw them on her arms as well. The truth she wouldn't try to hide. She had felt. She still felt. And, maybe she'd lost the only thing that had ever been good for her. But she'd done what she did for the one person who meant something to her in this world. She wouldn't expect you to understand. Not unless you had been there. And she was grateful for the slashes in her skin. They would provide a reprieve from the thoughts of what she'd done to not only Elle, but to JJ as well.

At least for tonight.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm not exactly sure anymore, the direction I'm going to take this one. Letting it sit has changed a lot, about my frame of mind, and what I feel about the characters. I hope it's enjoyable, anyway.


End file.
